The Rowan Part 13

'Only the very best for the newest, love,' Jeff replied, lightly teasing though there was no sparkle in his deep blue eyes. He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her long and deeply. She responded as intensely as she could.

The twinkle was back in his eyes. He quickly settled himself in the carrier. The whine of the generators was keening up to launch power. 'See you, love!' It was astonishing for everyone in the Tower to launch Jeff's capsule. He was helping, laughing when the Rowan told him to save his strength for his day's work, teasing Afra and Ackerman in a casual way and then - abruptly he had separated himself from them.

The Rowan became far too busy to examine her feelings just then.

A near invasion of pods and drones, of medium sized personnel carriers were flicked out from Earth Prime en route to Deneb: experts in all fields to pa.r.s.e through the debris of the invaders to ascertain what was the most important for in-depth a.n.a.lysis to be sent back to the main Moon labs. Every sort of information must be gleaned from that a.s.sault, a.n.a.lyzed, and neatly catalogued for future reference.

Whenever Deneb-cargo went off Callisto, Jeff and the Rowan exchanged kisses, and other caresses which made her glad she was alone in the Tower. It gave an unexpected fillip to intensive mental effort.

And, as he had asked, she did a quick look at some of the more unusual flotsam that came through: hull arcs, like the segments of fruit; packages of curious supplies (food?); shreds of metallic films clothing?; some frozen specimens of alien parts. She did recall the look of them as she, with the focus meld of Prime minds, disa.s.sembled them and their ships. Not at all humanoid, rather a form of beetle, with carapace or chitinous wings, with multiple legs, with joined digits. Some of the creatures which had been standing erect at their control devices were approximately two-meters long. Those in the round access tubes through the long s.p.a.ce vehicles had been smaller and scurried about on six of their ten legs. There had been a heavily guarded central feature with immature creatures, a startling number of egg cases and the largest specimen. A generation ship? Indicative of perhaps a cross-galaxy voyage of incredible duration?

The contents certainly gave rise to incredible speculations and overwhelming relief that the Primes had been able to destroy such an alien menace. And some rather silly minor hysterics from the nervous.

Not only was there the unusual traffic to Deneb, but over the next few days, the Rowan was called upon to dispatch naval reconnaissance vessels to the perimeter of the Central Worlds' sphere of influence.

Ma.s.sive amounts of equipment and personnel were shifted around in the panic following the Denebian Incident. Reidinger decided to increase the Talented complement of the main Prime Stations for the purpose of unceasing vigilance and to upgrade distant early warning beacons set beyond the perimeter. That left him short of experienced staff, and rather short on temper as a result.

'Reports of the Incident were toned down a lot,' Ackerman told an exhausted Rowan at the end of that fourth chaotic day. 'The public report,' he added when the Rowan blinked uncomprehendingly up at him.

He decided her mind was only half here. 'They decreased the size and capacity of the ships, and the armaments and potential danger.

'Considering some of the stuff that we handled, I'd say that was discreet of them,' Afra remarked caustically, his fingers busily constructing a paper shape remarkably like the aliens that had been destroyed. Then he casually crumpled the origami into a wad.

Afra was exceedingly different from his sister, the gentle Goswina. And the day had exhausted her.

Me, too, Jeff said softly in her head. I've got just about enough energy to crawl into my lonely bed and remember how great it was to lie beside you. To know all through the night that you were there.

When the Rowan realized that she was grinning foolishly, 'Jeff!'

she said enigmatically and both men nodded understandingly.

Loftus brought in a sheaf of hard-copy sheets. 'They plan to work our b.u.t.ts off again tomorrow, too!' He shook out the ream-long manifests of projected shipments. 'And a big mother of a battleship, complete with flag admiral.

Where was he when he was needed?' 'D'you think he will be?'

Ackerman asked, suddenly apprehensive.

Afra snorted. 'With all the monitors, detectors, remotes, and junk we've had to parcel out? Highly unlikely.' 'Nothing like locking the barn door when the horse is gone!' Loftus said.

'What on earth do you mean by that?' the Rowan asked.

It sounded like something Siglen would come out with.

'Old saying! Procrastination is a thief! Here, Ackerman.

bud better a.n.a.lyze how we're going to shift all that!' I can see you now, Jeff's loving voice came softly into her mind, talking in the Tower. Why don't you go home so I can see you in your own place and fall asleep knowing where you are?

In a sort of trance, the Rowan excused herself, leaving the three men staring at the spot she had just vacated.

'I suppose we'll have to get used to her looking all starry-eyed and flicking out like that,' Brian said, slightly envious.

'Has she gone to Deneb?' Loftus asked, his eyes bugging out.

'She's not quite ready for that yet, I think,' Afra replied and tossed off the half-finished mug of stimulant. 'I hope it's not a long time coming.' As the tall Capellan went back to his works.p.a.ce, he was unaccountably depressed. In no way did he resent Jeff Raven's acquisition of the Rowan. Afra had long ago buried his tentative and unrequited attraction for the quicksilver girl. He had hoped that out of sheer need she might one day have turned to him, for he adored her in his own fashion. Since the day, as a very nervous eighteen year-old, he had reported for duty at Callisto, they had shared a rapport, becoming stronger over the years, close enough so that he did not exactly envy Jeff Raven. Rather he worried for them both.

They ought somehow to have taken themselves to Deneb that first night. He had been surprised that they hadn't. And more concerned, though it was certainly none of his business, when he sensed that the union had not been consummated. If he'd been in Jeff Raven's shoes Well, how the Denebian conducted his seduction of the Rowan was NOT the business of Afra, Capellan T-4. The Rowan showed no resentment; why should he?

While he could also understand the necessity of pumping men and material out to the other Primes, and the naval units, and whatever else was on tomorrow's dockets, why hadn't Reidinger sent out some T-2s or a few well integrated T-3 teams to a.s.sist Deneb. Why couldn't FT&T have given the Rowan and Jeff a few days together?

Was Reidinger still playing games with the Rowan's s.p.a.ce afare?

Reidinger might just find his strategy backfiring.

Though Afra had little clairvoyant capability, he had a sickening uneasy-making hunch that Reidinger was wrong to proceed as he did. The trouble with an undeveloped prescience was that it was so f.e.c.king nebulous. He intended to push against it until something did clarify.

Forewarned was forearmed. Or was it?

He was tired enough so that, when he got to his own quarters, he drank a formula meal and went imediately to bed.

Rowan, love!

Jeff's rich voice was tender and soft, gently rousing her from sleep. Phantom lips laid pressure on hers, and a phantom touch caressed her lovingly in other places.

She so much desired his presence, was convinced that he had somehow returned, that when she realized that she was still alone in her bed, she almost wept.

Oh, Rowan, lovey. I am so sorry! I devoutly wish I was really there. And she experienced a jolt of his own s.e.xual tension and was a little dismayed at its intensity.

The debris is still falling?

She caught the grimness - and the fatigue - in his mind.

Like rain! He was also disgusted. If any of us in that merge had had the sense G.o.d gave little green apples He gave them some?

we'd have made sure we scattered those hulks sunward!

Oversight!

Overhead, too. At least we have equipment now to man:tar falls.

The squadron's on twenty-four-hour duty la.s.soing the big stuff, packing it into drones for shipment back. We may think we're tired now, but you wait. She felt the unruly humor.

Our basket's entirely full of eggs.

Eggs?

Eggs, I said. Our biologists say that the beetles were reproducing for 1) a generation-type voyage 2) shortlived workers that had to be periodically replaced, or 3) stocking up for a population explosion on our planet. They want to do an in-depth examination and extrapolation of the life cycle. So don't make an omelette.

Not with frozen eggs. Jeff Wouldn't it be a lot easier and more work- and cost effective to examine everything there?

The Rowan felt tired just thinking about the effort involved. Was Jeff warning her or complaining?

They 'say' they have to do it in the big Moon labs - to prevent contamination or something. I think they don't want Deneb to get such a juicy contract so early in its career as a colony. We could pay off our Central Worlds' Start-up debt if we'd that kind of investagatory work here.

The Rowan thought about that. The Armed Services, naval and military, regarded Talent with deep suspicion since generally speaking, those of a mind to make war were too prosaic to understand minds which eschewed physical violence. Except, of course, she reminded herself, when they needed an entire squadron dispatched to a far corner of the galaxy. THEN they remembered Talent quite well! She didn't trust bureaucracy either but regulations and rules did reduce chaos to mere confusion. She had come to respect regulations: she would never condone restrictions. Not being of an acquisitive nature, she also did not understand the economics involved: she had all the possessions she needed: she could purchase whatever she liked - within reason - and she was not covetous.

Jeff was another matter. And all that happened to Jeff.

How badly is your colony in debt to Central Worlds? And how HAD

your governors decided to pay it off?

This planet's mineral rich: we're miners and engineers, with enough farmers thrown in to keep us locally supplied.

The Rowan pondered a moment, permitting the peripheral information she had absorbed in that merge to surface to her public mind. She knew he was an engineer in a farming family. She knew he had six brothers and four sisters, since increases in Deneb's population were as important as any other occupation. She knew that his oldest brother and his two older sisters with young families had been wiped out by the aliens, as well as his father and the two youngest siblings: that two younger brothers were medical personnel, that his mother would soon deliver a posthumous child. He had uncles, aunts, and cousins unto the third degree, and half of them had minor Talents. But Deneb, which was not scheduled to achieve full status in Central Worlds nor slated to receive a Prime in the next hundred years, had not organized its Talents until the imminent invasion had forced them into maturity.

Yes, you picked up a lot about us, didn't you, sweeting? Jeff sounded pleased and she felt him stretching... the stretch of someone relieving aching, strained muscles. She sent soothing impulses, phantom hands to knead and smooth. She would much rather have had the genuine warm flesh beneath equally fleshy fingers. I, too, and the longing in Jeff's tone ran as deep as her own.

This can't continue!

That's for sure, but I also cannot leave Deneb. Jeff's tone took on an irritated resignation. There's just no way I can permit myself personal time if my absence results in more destruction. Like right now. Be back!

His presence in her mind was gone: not so much as an echo remained. She felt more bereft than ever, deeply dissatisfied. If she applauded his principles, she fumed at the circ.u.mstances. Which brought her to the nub of the problem: Siglen's imposed s.p.a.ce fear. If Jeff could not, in honor, leave Deneb at this critical moment, it was up to her to break down her own resistance to s.p.a.ce travel.

Afra!

The Capellan's mind-touch was instantly available. He always was, she realized. Afra was like a shadow - a loving shadow she also perceived with her newly expanded perceptions of loving and caring.

She squashed that observation to save Afra's sensitivity.

I'll need to practice in my sh.e.l.l.

Not in the middle of the night, Rowan, he came back, not bothering to mask his exasperation. Believe me, I'm all for helping the course of true love, but trying to crack a trauma of such long standing is irrational when you - and I - are exhausted. Tomorrow morning. We'll have a few hours before Callisto clears Jupiter and Earth shipments arrive. This humble T4 needs all the rest he can get to cope with you on the best of days and I don't count today one of them! Go to sleep, Rowan. I need mine!

It was so seldom that Afra was adamant that the Rowan meekly broke the contact. He was right. It would be crazy to try anything in her state of mind.

How did Siglen manage to condition her thoroughly? Why hadn't anyone noticed it? Lusena had been so common sensible: why hadn't she spotted the neurosis?

BECAUSE Siglen harped on it so often, moaned about the Curse of the Primes so that no-one thought to question her. And both David and Capella had been woefully stressed on their flights. Who would have dared question Altair's biggest a.s.set?

a.s.s was right, the Rowan thought, spotting anomalies that refuted Siglen's contention. She'd always been able to teleport herself about Port City and the Tower. She'd never experienced agoraphobia. The mechanics of teleporting oneself on a planet were no different than teleporting oneself from one planet to another. The Rowan was disgusted. YEARS had been wasted because of Siglen's stupid inner ear imbalance!

And yet, the Rowan distinctly remembered her own terror when, as a very little girl, Lusena was taking her into the shuttle that would have transported her to Earth.

She had been so terrified at the sight of that portal she had even dropped Purza to teleport to the only place of safety she knew. Siglen had been raving then about the horrors of s.p.a.ce travel, and sparing the poor child any further anguish. Just as she had in the act of teleporting the Rowan to Callisto! The Rowan shuddered remembering that nightmare: why did Talents have to have such perfect recall?

David of Betelgeuse could clearly remember being nursed at his mother's breast. Capella swore she remembered her birth trauma.

Which, David had acidly remarked, was why Iron pants refused to mate, unwilling to inflict such horror on a child from her womb. Well, that was her excuse.

Once again, the Rowan tried to force her memory back, before that aborted departure. All she knew about her early childhood was what she had been told: that her parents had died in an avalanche, that she had been the sole survivor of the Rowan disaster. She had never questioned those facts. She had devoutly wished that she had known something of her background: her real name, what her family had been like, if she'd had any brothers and sisters. It hadn't been until she'd been in Turian's company that she realized what she might have been lacking.

She did remember being taken from the hopper, and immediately sedated. She most certainly remembered telling Siglen that she was the Rowan, because 'they' all called her 'The Rowan Child' Now that she knew that this whole fufurrah about Primes traveling in s.p.a.ce was an imposed neurosis, she was more than halfway to restoration. Or that was the often repeated theory. She stilled her restlessness, found a comfortable position in her half-empty bed, and initiated her sleep pattern.

The next morning she was awakened by the rumble of generators warming up.

We've two hours before we clear Jupiter, Afra said in his customary dry tone.

I know. Odd how she always did. Callisto's...o...b..t in its relation to its primary was a permanent fixture in her consciousness. She dressed quickly, remembered to drink a sustaining meal, and jogged down the pa.s.sageway to the bunker where the personnel carriers were stored, saw hers missing from its rack and went on to the launch cradle in which it now rested.

She didn't feel the least bit altered from the last time she had lain on the padded couch. Shouldn't she?

Feel different? Afra echoed and gave her a chuckle.

[Why had she never realized that Afra was warm brown, velvety smooth, and faintly citrony of scent?] YOU yourself haven't altered, afra went on through her private observation of him. Just your perception of the process.

Did you ever suspect that it was a psychosis engendered by Siglen's lack of equilibrium?

[Mental shrug.] A T4 does not delve into the exalted mechanics of the Primes, my dear. Afra snorted at the mere thought of such blasphemy.

But what do you think about, or Brian Ackerman, or any of those I whip back to Earth, when they're being transported?

I don't listen in, and Afra added an admonitory chiding.

You're being obstructive. Well, be objective. What do YOU think about?

During a kinetic displacement? Generally, I concentrate on getting where I'm supposed to go. Where did you plan to go today, Rowan?

I would prefer to go to Deneb, she answered in a very meek and subdued voice.

Not unless Jeff Raven is there to catch you, and he isn't.

And even with the gestalt, I can't send you very far. You're said in that respect, he added quickly when he felt the first tinge of terror in her mind. It will take time, you know, to condition you to s.p.a.ce travel.

I can't just sit here in the cradle - You're not, you know, Afra said very gently. You're hovering in Demos's...o...b..t above Mars.

WHAT? In her fright, the Rowan projected such an almighty scream that Afra slapped his hands, instinctively but ineffectually, to his ears.

WHAT are you doing, Rowan? came a roar from Earth Prime. Afra, I'll flay your yellow skin and hang the meat from your bones out to dry! What ARE you doing with her?

Leave him alone, Reidinger, was the Rowan's prompt and equally agitated response. Afra's obeying my orders and your stated wishes that THIS Prime will learn to travel in s.p.a.ce. Stop bl.u.s.tering. Here I am orbiting Demos and that's further than I've ever been able to come before. But, and while she forced herself to admire the view, she found herself 'looking' straight ahead, unable/unwilling to turn her eyes from the sight of Demos's pitted surface with Mar's red/orange bulk beyond. As long as she had only that view to contend with, she could manage it. Demos looked exactly like its hologram.

I think that's enough for now, she added, s.p.a.cing her words carefully, as if one of them might alter her head a fraction, forcing her to see more of the open s.p.a.ce all around her sh.e.l.l which could be a prelude to the G.o.dawful spinning she'd felt on her first s.p.a.ce voyage.

Shut up, Rowan, that was a Siglenish imposition. Nevertheless, she felt sweat trickling down her face.

You did very well, Afra said calmly and the next thing she knew she was back in the cradle.